GOD BLESS THE PARENTS WHO DRUGGED US The other day, someone at a storein our town read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in an oldfarmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question.
"Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?" Ireplied I had a drug problem when I was young: I was drug to church onSunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drugto family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.
I was also drugto the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home abad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher orthe preacher, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything thatwas asked of me.I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if Iuttered a profanity.
I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden andflowerbeds and cocklebur's out of dad's fields. I was drug to the homesof family, friends and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no oneto mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood; and, if mymother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for thiskindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.
Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior ineverything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, orheroin; and, if today's children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place. God bless the parents who drugged us.
Thanks Sandy R.